Could be Normal
by Nightengale
Summary: Tom and Peter spend an afternoon together. Tom thinks about them, could he really be normal and happy? *Slash, TomPeter, movie verse*


They sat at a large table normally meant for five at some nameless café along the canal. Peter's music was spread across the table, concert next week. They both had coffee, untouched beside them. It was just a normal afternoon, sun shinning, a few clouds, and pigeons here and there.

Tom watched Peter as he worked through the music, marking in spots for cues, portions to work on with his orchestra. He held his pen in one hand, the other flattening down the pages, keeping them from flying off the table. Tom couldn't believe how beautiful he was; his hair falling in his eyes, so intent on his music. Tom didn't deserve someone like him. Peter shouldn't be anywhere near him.

Making another mark on the pages Peter's head titled to the side. He was so beautiful and innocent.

Tom had to look away. Maybe he should just get up and run, run far away to keep Peter safe from him. Peter didn't need to see him, see how dark and terrible is really was down below.

"Tom?"

Eyes intent on the cobble stone Tom answered Peter, "Yes?"

"Tom."

At the tone of Peter's voice he turned. Peter was looking at him like he often did, like he wanted to turn the key but would only do so if Tom handed it to him first. It just wasn't fair that someone as glorious as Peter should be sitting near him looking at him like that. It wasn't fair to Peter.

"What are you thinking?" Peter asked, putting his pen down.

"About you," He said, realizing it was actually an honest answer if not the complete truth.

Peter smiled a little and Tom knew that Peter knew he hadn't said everything. How could Peter read him so well? Tom had tried so hard to hide everything, hide himself away in the basement. Did he even know who he was? Was he separate at all from those deeds he locked away, from the fake lives he had led?

"Thinking about me and what?" Peter asked.

Tom laughed a sort of hollow sound, "That I don't deserve you. That you should be a far away with someone better than me." He looked down at the table and thought about smashing his coffee cup on the ground and just screaming, screaming and screaming.

Then Peter spoke again, "I think I am able to decide where I want to be. If I wanted to be far away with someone else I would be." Tom looked up. Peter was gazing at him with a serious expression on his face. "But I want to be here with you, Tom, with you. And you deserve to be happy." Tom smiled despite not believing it. "And Tom, I am going to try and make you happy and…" he paused.

"Peter… I'm…"

"I just want you to let me in." Peter stopped him.

Tom looked away. He heard Peter get out of his chair across the table and sit in the one beside Tom. He could feel the heat of Peter's body beside him and it reminded him of how cold Dickie became once he was lying still on the bottom of the boat. He shivered and tried to control his breathing. Dickie's dead eyes and Freddie's blood on his statue spun in his head. Tom had a sudden urge to flee, to run as fast as he could, to jump into the canal, to just drown. He knew he was a monster with an angel beside him and the vulgarly of it made his stomach churn.

Then Peter's hand closed over his and he turned to look at the other man. Looking at his face, so accepting, so willing to love Tom despite the secrets, despite his mystery made the dark around Tom's mind brighten, if only a little. Peter literally was the light of his life, the light above the darkness.

"Ok," Peter said that quiet acceptance back into his voice and he smiled, "Do you want to go?"

Tom nodded and quickly gulped down half of his coffee. They both stood up, gathering the music together and returning it to Peter's brown leather case. Leaving their cups at the table they headed off into the afternoon down the empty street. They walked together close enough for their shoulders to brush lightly at each step.

As they walked Tom thought, this could be it; this could be life, every day with him. He turned to look at Peter's profile beside him. He could spend each day with that face, that smile.

"You haven't been to Florence, have you?" Peter asked, turning to look at Tom as they walked.

"No, not yet."

"We should go. You'd like it. No canals of course, but a city worth seeing."

"As long as I'm going with you," Tom replied and he was at once surprised with himself at how Peter brought such honesty out of him at unexpected moments.

"Good." Peter smiled and Tom couldn't help but grin back at him. It was that smile that made him forget everything; forget his past, what he'd done. If Peter could smile at him like that what did it matter what had happened before? He could live for now and pretend the past had never been there at all. All there was now was Peter.

Suddenly, not watching where he was going with Peter smiling like that, Tom tripped on a raised stone in their path. He stumbled slightly and accidentally knocked Peter's case from his hand, spilling the music about the ground. Peter caught his arm to stop him from following the music down and chuckled.

"Looks like I'm distracting you from walking."

They both laughed and Tom stooped down to pick up the music. It really had fallen all over the place. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back and saw Peter looking down at him. He stood up slowly, pages of music in his hands.

"What?"

Peter just smiled and stood with his chest nearly touching Tom's.

"Nothing," he replied, "You're just so beautiful."

His finger's touched Tom's temple, lightly brushing Tom's hair back from his face. Peter kissed Tom firm on the mouth and Tom kissed him back. "Beautiful," he whispered against Tom's lips and kissed him softly once more. For one moment Tom forgot everything, everything in the world, the past, present, everything except Peter Smith-Kingsley.

Then Peter leaned back a little and took the music from Tom's hands. They kneeled and gathered up the rest of the sheets, placing them back in Peter's case. Standing up again Peter held out his hand down to Tom.

"Ready?"

From where he crouched Tom looked up at Peter. Peter. It could be like this everyday, he and Peter. Every day they could walk together, have coffee, go home, go out, stumble in the street, laugh, every day they could be together and be happy. Tom could forget everything, no more Dickie or Freddie; he could let the light of Peter slowly erase the dark. Couldn't he? Couldn't he be happy and normal? Couldn't Peter save him, if Tom let him?

Tom took Peter's hand and stood up. "Yes," he replied and they walked away, hands still together.

Couldn't he let someone as beautiful, and glorious, and so gentle and tender and caring save him, erase the dark?


End file.
